Ask Me Something (The Something Series Book 2) (4 page)

He grinned,
leaning his forehead against mine so that we were eye to eye. “Yes it was. I’m
staying in Josh’s guest apartment tonight so you know.”

Smiling, I was
glad he’d told me.

He sucked on my
lower lip one last time before heaving a regretful sigh and pulling away. Walking
towards my front door, he gave me one more look over his shoulder before
leaving.

Holy shit, the
world as I knew it had been turned upside down in one evening.

While waiting at
the airport for my flight home the next morning, I kept replaying the previous
night over in my mind. But instead of feeling panicked, I was disappointed that
I’d been left with no more than a scorching kiss.

Taking out my
phone, I quickly texted Brian a question I couldn’t shake.

“You and I both
know I’d be terrible at being submissive. Why me?”

After arriving
at my parents’ house and while sitting in the driveway, I read his response for
the third time.

“
You’re
dominant in all things. Doesn’t it get tiring? Don’t you want to let go and
have someone else take over and call the shots in one aspect of your life?”

Curious, I had
to ask,
“What kinds of things are we talking about? Furry cuffs and sex
toys or like hardcore whips and chains? Details please.”

I was surprised
when his reply came quickly.

“No details
until you agree. But in answer to your questions, I’m not into whips and
chains. Furry cuffs are a bit cheesy. And YES to the other.”

Realizing what
the
other
referred to, I blushed hotly. Jesus, he capitalized YES to sex
toys. I was having a hard time picturing a man I’d known all these years, who I
called a friend, colleague, and now boss, being into these types of things. You
think you know someone. I’d always pictured he’d be sort of clumsy and goofy in
bed. The type of sexual partner who’d make me laugh and be comfortable to be
around but who wasn’t going to make me burn with desire. And now I was aroused
beyond belief merely over text messages. His next one came in before I could
respond to the last.

“How’s the head?
And how was the flight?”

Normal
conversation. Okay, I could do that.
“Head is all right, although I had
to take some Tylenol to get it there. Flight was good. I’m about to go into the
house, but I’ll talk to you later. Safe travels to Virginia.”

***

I appreciated
the fact that I was able to spend the holidays with loved ones, but my home town
of Beaufort, North Carolina was a reminder of the most traumatic event I’d ever
experienced. I’d always felt like a piece of me was missing while growing up,
but never understood why until the year I turned sixteen and discovered I was
adopted. My life as I knew it changed drastically. It didn’t help that since my
father had been the Chief of Police for many years, I couldn’t go one foot into
town without running into someone who knew me and what had happened. Small
towns. Gotta love them.

Breathing deep,
I focused on the good memories. I loved the beauty of my childhood home with
its historic tall ceilings and wooden floors built over a hundred years ago.

My younger
sister and her family lived on the other side of town. This was probably a good
thing at the moment because being under the same roof with four children would
only emphasize my slight hangover.

It had been a
few months since my last visit. My sister had delivered baby number four. As
with the prior three, I’d made sure I went to the hospital, gave a lavish gift,
and picked up a meal from the local restaurant for their first night home. I
may not be very good with babies, cooking, or all the other domestic stuff, but
I was a kick-ass big sister in ensuring I was home for the births of my nieces
and nephews.

“Hi, Daddy.” I
embraced my big bear of a dad after walking in the front door. My father might
not share my blood, but I was hard pressed ever to think of him as anything
other than my dad. He’d retired from a career in law enforcement two years ago.
I knew that most found his six-foot-four-inch stature and big barrel chest
intimidating, but to me he’d always been a big teddy bear. He was a true
Southern gentleman. Although he didn’t typically have much to say, people
listened when he did speak. His hair got a little grayer and thinner each time
I came home, but to me he was perfect.

“Hi, sweetheart.
How was your flight?” he asked.

“Oh, it was fi—,
I mean, good, thanks.” I smiled. Brian had turned me off of the word
fine
.
“Hi, Momma.”

My mother came
into the foyer and hugged me too. She wore an apron over her sweater and pants,
showing the evidence that she’d been hard at work in the kitchen. My mom might
be sixty, but she could easily pass for ten years younger, with hardly a gray
hair on her head or a wrinkle on her face. She might have gained a little
weight in the last couple of years, but in true Norwegian heritage style, she
wore the curves impeccably.

“Sweetie, look
at you, you’re wasting away.” Leave it to my mom to always think I’d lost
weight as an excuse to push butter-laden food on me for the next few days. I
knew she loved me like I’d been her own from birth and that keeping me fed was
her way of letting me know how much she missed taking care of me.

After making my
way up the stairs to my childhood room, I put down my bags and took a moment to
fight the disquiet over being in this space. Then I thought of Haylee who had
lost her father a few years ago and her mother last year, and I felt
appreciation for having a family to come home to over the holidays.

I went
downstairs and hugged my mom again.

“Now, then,
what’s this?” she asked, turning and touching my chin. I was thirty-two years
old, but she had a way of making me feel fourteen again.

“I love you,
Mom,” I responded thickly.

“I love you,
too. Everything all right? Any new men in your life?”

I tried not to
roll my eyes at the question. In my town, most people were interested in my
love life or lack thereof. At church tonight I would have that question asked
at least a half-dozen more times. “Everything is good, and nothing to talk
about in the other department.”

I nipped a piece
of bacon that would go into some sort of side dish tomorrow and got ready to
help with the preparations. Cooking wasn’t my forte, but it wasn’t that hard to
chop or mix something, and I was certainly capable of washing dishes. Being in
the kitchen, especially during the holidays, was a requirement for any Southern
woman.

“Well, I know I
don’t say this enough, but you know I’m real proud of you, don’t you, Sasha
Jayne?” She had turned and was studying me, her eyes reflecting her words.

The tears
pricked my eyes, and I swallowed hard. “Thanks, Mom. I appreciate it.”

My parents
hadn’t judged, but I’d known it had hurt them that I’d been hell-bent to leave
this town at eighteen and had never looked back except for the occasional
visit. They’d lovingly raised me. But even they hadn’t been prepared for the
true circumstances of my adoption and birth to come out the way it had. My
therapist called that revelation the traumatic trigger that had started my
anxiety attacks. I called it the worst day of my life.

“Here, you can
chop apples for the pie. Tell me about work. What’s new there?”

I knew she
didn’t care much about the world of advertising, but I did share a couple of
pieces. Then I switched to Haylee’s upcoming wedding details as I knew this was
a subject my mom enjoyed.

“You’re leaving
for the wedding from here?”

“Yes. I’m
driving over to Charlotte the morning of the twenty-ninth and taking the plane
down with some others.” A buzz of anticipation hit me about seeing Brian again.
He’d be taking the same plane.

“I’m thankful
you’ll be home for a few days at least. The kids will be happy to see you,
too.”

I gave my mom a
smile, trying not to feel guilty over the fact that it would be the longest few
days of my life. There was nothing she could do about the fact that I had
anxiety while being home. It was a part of my past I’d learned to reconcile. “I
know I don’t say it enough, but I miss you and Dad.”

“We miss you,
too, but you know we’re not here to make you feel bad about coming home. You’ve
got your own life and we understand that.”

I appreciated the
fact that my parents had never put that kind of pressure on me.

“Now, then,
after you finish chopping apples, why don’t you go with your father into town?
He’s gonna pick up some pizza for tonight and lunch on the way home. I’ll
finish up in here. I only have the one more pie, and then I think we’re set.
We’ll see your sister and family tonight at church, then they’ll be over
tomorrow afternoon, giving them time to be in their PJ’s in the morning for
Santa.”

I finished up my
task and made my break for it to accompany my father for the pizza pickup duty.
It would give me a chance to go by the store and get some good bottles of wine.
I loved my family, but alcohol wouldn’t be their top priority for tomorrow’s
menu. I’d need a few glasses to get through the day with my sister.

***

After lunch with
my folks, I drove to a commercial business park on the outskirts of town and
took a deep breath upon parking in front of the familiar office. Not even my
family knew that I continued to see Dr. Marcia Evans when I was home.

Even though it
had been months since my last visit, my therapist smiled warmly like we’d seen
one another only days ago. The older woman had always reminded me of Blanche
from the Golden Girls. She was sassy, Southern, and didn’t mince words. I’d
been seeing her since I was sixteen years old, so to say she knew me almost my
whole life wasn’t an exaggeration.

Her office
hadn’t changed much. Maybe some new furniture over the years, but the
familiarity of things like her framed pictures on the walls and flower-printed
curtains set me at ease. Being a clinical psychologist specializing in anxiety,
you couldn’t go about remodeling your office without throwing your patients
into complete chaos, I imagined. The thought made me smile.

“Sasha, you look
lovelier every time I see you. When did you get in?” she greeted.

“This morning.
Thanks for agreeing to see me on Christmas Eve, Dr. Evans.”

She looked at me
thoughtfully. “You know I always have time for you. And although I’d miss
seeing you, you do know that I wouldn’t be offended if you were to find someone
to talk to in New York.”

It wouldn’t be a
session with Dr. Evans without her suggesting in a subtle way that she’d like
me to see someone more often then maybe twice a year. “I know and appreciate
it.” I acknowledged her suggestion as I did every time.

“How was your
anxiety level this time coming home for the holidays?”

Huh. It dawned
on me that I’d been so preoccupied with Brian and what had transpired last
night that I hadn’t experienced the apprehension I normally did when traveling
home. “I, uh, it was better this time.”

Dr. Evans had the
super power of knowing when I was holding something back and immediately arched
a brow. She sat back with her interest obviously piqued. “What was different
this year?”

I was hesitant
to make Brian part of this session. She’d heard about him a little over the
years as someone who I’d confided in about my social discomfort, but that was
about it. “I went out of my comfort zone last night by accompanying a friend to
a speed dating night. I can’t say that I’d ever do it again or particularly
enjoyed it, but it definitely tested my boundaries.”

“That’s good.
But given that getting off the plane to drive home has always been a trigger
point for your anxiety, I’d like to know what was on your mind instead of the
usual in those moments.”

There wasn’t a
non-awkward way of saying ‘sex toys’ to anyone. I felt my face heating just
thinking about it.

She put down her
pen and regarded me thoughtfully. “I’m not here to judge or criticize your
choices. However, if something in your life is impacting your anxiety levels, either
positively or negatively, then it’s important that you tell me.”

“Okay, here
goes.” I filled her in on some details about the prior night with Brian,
including the text message, Jamie subsequently showing up, and finally him
coming by my place.

“So did you
two—?” she hedged.

I shook my head
and smiled at her look of surprise. “To be honest, I would have, but he was
adamant that it be a conscious decision instead of a reaction. Then he started
talking about boundaries.” I replayed some of our conversation with the
exception of him wanting to be dominant. There were some things I’d rather keep
personal.

I’d never seen
her look quite so amused. She wore a barely contained smile. “Sounds like Brian
knows you and wants to ensure that you’re comfortable before starting
something.”

“He knows
enough, I suppose.” I didn’t think it was a fair statement to say he really
knew me when he was in the dark about my anxiety, my therapy, or the traumatic
trigger for it all. “I know he’s not purposefully messing with my head, but I’m
all sorts of turned upside-down and can’t make heads or tails of anything.”

This time she
didn’t bother to hide the smile. “I don’t think he’s messing with your head,
either. If anything, it would appear he wants to ensure you are both very clear
where this would go and what would happen. Those are two things that hold true
in how we’ve done our behavior therapy. You picture the scenario, you imagine
yourself in it, and you prepare yourself mentally. If you had slept together
last night, I believe you’d be anxious right now thinking about what it meant, and
what was going to transpire as a result of doing so. It sounds like he values
your priorities and wants you to be certain.”